


somehow, all of a sudden, fallen

by lavenderlotion



Series: does not tremble when your depths tremble [1]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Confessions, Cuddling & Snuggling, First Kiss, Guilt, Light Angst, M/M, Pre-Canon, Step-Brothers, Step-Sibling Incest, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:27:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28090896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavenderlotion/pseuds/lavenderlotion
Summary: “I wanna kiss you, Charlie,” Cain whispered against his neck, lips dragging across his skin and his breath warm anddamp.
Relationships: Cain Marko/Charles Xavier
Series: does not tremble when your depths tremble [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2057949
Comments: 14
Kudos: 16





	somehow, all of a sudden, fallen

**Author's Note:**

> this is a result of the latest tiktok trend of... incesty tiktoks. 
> 
> beta’d by the lovely [InsertSthMeaningful](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsertSthMeaningful)

Charles had  _ just _ been trying to brush his teeth in peace when he heard the door to his bedroom open. He blew a tired breath from his nose as he kept scrubbing, dropping his eyes from his own reflection to instead watch his finger tap out a tuneless rhythm against the marble countertop. Cain’s steps were heavy and they dragged across the floor, which meant one thing. 

Surprisingly quickly, Cain himself appeared in the doorway. He was wearing an ill-fitting pair of sweatpants and nothing else, the band falling distractingly low, so low a few curls of hair caught Charles’ eye before he quickly refocused on his brother’s face. Cain was wearing a dumb-looking smirk that Charles chose to ignore, just as he ignored the sprawling expanse of his shoulders and the unfairly attractive sight of his rather defined abdomen muscles. 

Cain didn’t say anything, infuriatingly, and just stood there  _ watching _ him as Charles continued brushing his teeth and  _ not _ watching him back. He’d lost his count when Cain first entered his room, and he was debating starting from zero or just finishing up when the weight of his brother’s eyes got to be too much. 

“Did you have fun with Kurt?” Charles asked as politely as possible, his words jumbled around the plastic in his mouth but easy enough to understand. 

Cain shrugged and said nothing, but the way his eyebrows pulled down was answer enough for Charles. He watched Cain’s face in the mirror, looking for... something. It was nearly one in the morning—Charles had been up in the library and Kurt had taken Cain out to a business meeting, since he was turning eighteen in only a few months. Cain hadn’t wanted to go (he had no interest in following in his father’s footsteps) and had complained to Charles all afternoon. 

He  _ had _ gone, though, putting on a brave face and donning the stiff clothing he only ever wore for special gatherings. Charles had retired to the library and had himself a wonderful, if lonely, night of reading without being disturbed. He’d  _ tried _ waiting up for Cain, hoping that he’d be able to stay up long enough to see his brother before he went to bed, but he’d given up when the clock struck one. 

As much as he had tried, he’d given out hope and decided to call it a night, no matter how much it bothered him to do so. 

Cain, who pushed himself from his lean against the door frame and swayed forward, before taking a couple stumbling steps that put him so close to Charles’ back that he could  _ feel _ his body heat even through the shirt he was wearing. 

The shirt that Cain grabbed the end of, twisting the fabric between his fingers in a way that caused the already-loose neckline to drag even lower. 

“Is this mine?” Cain’s voice was a low, rumbling thing. Over the last year, it had deepened rather drastically, and it was now so low and  _ pleasing _ that it haunted Charles’ dreams. 

Charles flushed hotly, and avoided answering. 

“You’re drunk, Cain,” he sighed around his toothbrush, spitting out a mouthful of foam. 

“Yer warm.” Cain’s words were a slurred rumble against his throat, and the catch of his lips sent a shiver running down Charles' spine. “‘N yer wearin’ m’shirt.”

Charles still refused to answer. He  _ was _ wearing Cain’s shirt, but Cain didn’t need to hear that if they both knew it was true. His brother had turned sixteen and had utterly  _ ballooned, _ growing taller and wider seemingly overnight. Cain had  _ also _ started working out regularly, and eventually had to buy a whole new wardrobe. Part of that wardrobe had been a soft black t-shirt that Cain had worn for weeks on end... until Charles had snuck into his room and stolen it after a nightmare that left him sweating and shivering, and Cain hadn’t been there like he normally was. 

He wore it because it still smelt like his brother. Because Charles liked to wrap himself up in something that was Cain’s, because Cain meant  _ safety _ and sometimes... Charles needed to feel safe. 

“You should go to bed,” he said instead of anything else, leaning forward to rinse out his mouth and choking on a mouthful of water when Cain  _ didn’t move out of the way  _ and Charles’ bum pressed snugly against Cain’s crotch. 

Goodness gracious. 

Charles met Cain’s eyes in the mirror and Cain was staring back at him steadily. There was a smirk on his lips that Charles wanted to  _ taste, _ dammit, and something about his raised eyebrow left Charles feeling wrong-footed and exhilarated all at once. Cain was still just  _ standing _ there, so close,  _ too close, _ and Charles didn’t know what to do. 

What the hell was going on? 

Straightening up, Charles coughed out the last bit of water that had made its way into his lungs and sent Cain the deadliest glare he could muster up while still trying to catch his breath. 

“I like you in my clothes, Charlie,” Cain breathed, and then before Charles could ask what in heaven’s name was going on, Cain wrapped his arms around him and fitted his chin to the top of Charles’ head. “‘N I’m not drunk, just a lil’ loose.” 

“And that’s why you’re speaking like an idiot?” Charles asked, because...  _ what. _

Cain’s decidedly large and decidedly warm arms were looped around him and his big hands were settled on his belly. He was all but curled around Charles, his entire stomach pressing against Charles’ back as he pulled him even tighter against him with the dopiest of all smiles on his stupid, ridiculous,  _ handsome _ face. And this... was  _ not  _ normal. Not normal at all. 

“Exactly,” Cain told him, meeting Charles’ eyes in the mirror. 

_ Exactly. _ What does that even mean?!

“Is that... also why you’re doing this?” Charles asked, raising an arm to indicate... Cain. Then, he awkwardly tried to figure out what the hell he was supposed to  _ do _ with his arms, before giving up with a huff and letting them settle over Cain’s own, wrapping his fingers around the boy’s stupidly thick wrists as he tried to tell himself that this was normal, everyday brotherly affection and nothing more. 

Nothing more. 

It  _ couldn’t  _ be anything more, right? 

That’s... that couldn’t be it. 

Cain snorted and rolled his eyes, which drew the faintest of smiles to Charles’ lips that he would ignore until his dying breath, and his oaf of a brother asked, “What, I gotta be drunk to hug you?”

Which would have been a completely valid point, if Cain wasn’t hugging him like  _ this. _ Which, “... No, but you don’t normally hug me like this, Cain.”

“Like I said, I’m a lil’ looser,” Cain told him, and then he nuzzled at the top of Charles' head. Damn affectionate idiot. 

“Okay, what are you doing?” Charles asked sharply, his heartbeat picking up until it was racing against his chest. His fingers went iron tight around Cain’s wrists with the need to  _ hold on.  _ “This is  _ not _ normal, Cain.”

But Cain didn’t say anything. All he did was hug Charles tighter, nosing across Charles’ scalp and then moving down until his face was buried in Charles’ neck and his fingers were clutching at Charles’ hips and Cain was  _ completely _ wrapped around him. Jesus Christ, his brother was so... big. 

“It was a really bad dinner,” Cain whispered hoarsely, and Charles... tightened his hold on Cain’s wrists even further and leaned back against him, trusting his brother to hold him up. 

If Cain needed a hug, well... simple brotherly affection or not, Charles would let him have one. 

“I’m sorry,” he told him, and meant it. 

It would be a couple of years still until Kurt would bring Charles around to work functions, though Charles already didn’t have much interest in the business side of science. If a  _ regular _ dinner with Kurt was painful enough, Charles could only imagine what one would be like with Kurt and his colleagues. 

Cain mumbled something that was lost in Charles’ skin. He let his brother hold him, holding him back as best as he could, and tried to ignore the way his heart was racing and his stomach was flipping over itself. Warmth seemed to  _ pool _ in his gut, seeping in from Cain’s ever-warm skin. This wouldn’t be the  _ first _ time they blurred the lines of acceptable, but it was easier to pretend in the dark of night when one of them was still shaking from a nightmare. 

This was so very different from Cain holding him in the middle of the night. Yes, it  _ was _ the middle of the night, but they were standing, and in the bathroom, and Charles watched Cain’s shoulders heave with a heavy breath in the mirror, because the light was on and they weren’t hiding under the covers, wrapped around one another and seeking comfort from the only person who understood them, and it was different,  _ different, _ and—

“I wanna kiss you, Charlie,” Cain whispered against his neck, lips dragging across his skin and his breath warm and  _ damp  _ and Charles—

Charles struggled to get away, pushing at Cain’s arms until the stupid idiot let him go, and then Charles whirled around and—Cain was smiling a stupid,  _ dumb _ little smile that made Charles’ heart twist up in his chest. Goodness gracious! 

“You—” he started, but then realized he had nowhere to go. He stomped his foot, ignoring the way his face was burning and poked Cain in his stupidly big chest and told him, very firmly, “No.”

“Charlie—”

“You can’t say things like that!” Charles cried, his voice rising  _ several _ octaves into a pitch that was just embarrassing, especially when Cain chuckled at him. 

This couldn’t be happening. Neither of them had  _ ever _ said anything like this—Charles, because he was bloody terrified of what would happen if Cain didn’t feel the same way, and since Cain had never said anything either, so Charles had always assumed he  _ didn’t _ feel the same way. But now Cain was saying he wanted to  _ kiss _ him and that... that didn’t just  _ blur _ the line, that completely jumped over it. 

“C’mon Charlie, don’t be like that,” Cain said quietly, his smile falling into a frown. “You know you wanna.”

“I do not!” he protested, but even he could hear the lie in his voice. 

Cain laughed. It was a soft, quiet thing, and the way his eyes went warm and heavy-lidded made Charles’ breath catch. He was beautiful. He had always been so, so beautiful, and Charles remembered realizing it, climbing into his big brother’s bed  _ terrified _ and grieving and feeling all alone, and the way Cain had smiled at him, like everything was going to be okay, and thinking his big brother was beautiful. 

Cain was  _ still _ beautiful, and Charles could do nothing but shake his head as he grasped for words. Then, before he could say anything else, Cain rolled his eyes, grabbed his hips, and lifted him onto the bathroom counter before stepping between his thighs. 

_ “What?!” _ Charles squeaked loudly, suddenly  _ very  _ glad that his and Cain’s rooms were on a completely different floor than their parent’s master suite. He threw his arm out and slapped his palm against Cain’s chest, getting momentarily distracted by the little patch of hair between his pecs and the way it tickled his palm, before focusing back on the matter at hand. “What the  _ hell _ are you doing?”

Charles only noticed the way Cain’s eyes went dark because he was staring at him, and his cheeks bloom even warmer in response. 

“Charlie—”

“You’re my  _ brother,”  _ Charles protested, holding onto the edge of the counter until his fingers  _ ached _ with the force of it with one hand, and digging his nails into Cain’s chest to keep him  _ there _ with the other. He wanted this so bad but it... it didn’t make any sense. “You are my brother and you are  _ drunk, _ Cain, what are you doing?”

_ “Step-brother, _ Charlie,” Cain said with a stupid leer on his face that Charles saw right through. “And I’m not drunk.”

“Neither of us think like that,” Charles told him, the surety of his words backed by the pounding of his heart. “We’re brothers. You know that.” 

And they  _ were. _ Sure, Charles may have hated Kurt, but he loved Cain with all of his heart. Too much of his heart, if anything, really, but that... that didn’t matter. What mattered was that they  _ were _ brothers. That’s how Charles thought of them and that’s how Cain thought of them and he... he might not love Cain as a brother should, but he did love him, and he couldn’t let this happen. 

No. No, Cain was just drunk. He didn’t know what he was doing and Charles wasn’t going to take advantage of that no matter how badly he wanted this. It wouldn’t be  _ fair, _ because Cain had never said anything at all, had never made Charles think that  _ maybe _ there was even a possibility that he felt the same, and now Cain was making room for himself between Charles’ thighs and saying he wanted to  _ kiss _ him, and Charles wanted it so badly he ached with it, but he, he—

“Doesn’t mean we can’t be more,” Cain whispered. Thankfully, he dropped the dumb leer but the genuine,  _ hopeful _ little smile that replaced it tore at Charles’ heart. 

God, he sounded so genuine. 

Charles wanted to believe it so badly. He would give  _ anything _ for Cain to want him, but... this couldn’t be happening. It was a dream, or Cain was so drunk he didn’t actually know what he was saying... even if he only seemed a little loose, just like he’d said. It had to be that. Right? 

“Yes it does,” Charles whispered, his voice breaking and his heart shattering apart in his chest as he tried to deny it. God, he wanted this so much. “It  _ has _ to.”

He knew it was weak. That it didn’t say nearly enough. But Charles had spent  _ years _ telling himself that Cain was his brother and that he couldn’t be anything more, and that what Charles had felt was  _ wrong. _ It... it had to be wrong. 

“Why, Charlie?” Cain asked him in a whisper, and his hands felt white-hot against his bare thighs as they slid up from his knees to hold his hips.  _ God, _ Cain’s hands were so big. “Why can’t we be more?”

“Because I want you so badly I  _ ache _ with it, Cain, but it’s  _ wrong. _ It has to be wrong, because I can’t, the world, they wouldn’t,  _ father—”  _ Charles' words were a jumbled, broken mess just like his thoughts, which were rushing too fast for anything to make sense. His eyes were burning with tears and he was desperate, so desperate for Cain to understand. 

Cain was still just  _ smiling _ at him, like Charles’ chest wasn’t being torn apart. Like his whole  _ world _ wasn’t being flipped upside down as Charles’ legs had to spread  _ wider _ to accommodate the width of Cain’s waist, like  _ that _ wasn’t completely driving him insane already. There was so much happening that Charles couldn’t make any sense of it, and all Cain did was look at him steadily as he held him tight. 

“I don’t care about father.”

“Yes you do,” Charles whispered, broken, and a few tears finally spilled over that he wiped away angrily. “Don’t say that because it isn’t true, Cain, and that’s  _ okay.” _

Kurt was an awful, horrible man, but he was Cain’s father in a way he would never be Charles’ and he knew that Cain still cared for him. That Cain, even if he said he didn't, valued the man’s opinion. And it was easier to accuse Cain of holding back for fear of Kurt, because at least that meant he actually  _ wanted _ Charles, instead of thinking that hadn’t ever done anything simply because he’d never wanted to. 

Cain didn’t say anything at first. Instead, he cupped Charles’ face and wiped away a few stray tears. Charles grasped weakly for his wrists to keep his hands on him, turning his face so he could press a kiss to one of Cain’s palms and then the next, letting himself be weak. He had no idea what he was doing but he was  _ burning _ and here Cain was, standing before him in nothing but low-riding sweatpants and telling Charles everything he’d ever dreamed about hearing. 

Maybe... maybe he could let himself have this? It was everything he’d ever wanted for  _ so long _ and he didn’t want to say no. He didn’t  _ want _ to deny himself, to push Cain away because it was the “right” thing to do. Did it  _ matter _ what was right? What wasn’t? Did he  _ care _ about any of that?

“Cain...” Charles whispered, as, all at once, the fight drained out of him. 

“I... Charlie, I care about you more,” Cain told him surely, and Charles... let his mind bloom forward to feel the truth of Cain’s thoughts before pulling back. “I love you,” Cain told him and he meant  _ so much.  _

Charles let Cain kiss him. 

And kiss him and kiss him and kiss him. 

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi to me on [tumblr](https://lavender-lotion.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> kudos aren’t the same as getting a comment, not even close. so a comment, as short and sweet or as sprawling and sporadic as you can manage, would be _greatly_ appreciated! don't know what to comment? how about _”this was great!”_ or _“awesome work!”_
> 
> i run an 18+ x-men discord server! check it out [here!](https://discord.gg/pebvUEnWB6)


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